Waiting for Annie
by Marrya'sUniverse
Summary: Please read & review! Finnick is waiting for Annie to be rescued from the Capitol - 'So thats who Finnick loves, a poor, mad girl from back home.' For max. effect listen to 'Everything'll Be Alright' - Joshua Radin. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1: Waiting

**For all those Finnick fans out there. . .**

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><p>I'm sitting leaning against a wall in the room that Katniss calls the hummingbird room. She's sat on the floor next to me, her eyes red from lack of sleep. Her hands are raw from the number of times she's undone and redone the knot on the length of rope in her lap, and I know that if I concentrated on my hands for long enough I would feel the same stinging pain in them that she does. But I can't concentrate on anything; I can't do anything but feverishly rework and rework and rework the rope in my hands. I mustn't think of Annie. I mustn't think of what tonight's mission will mean for her if something goes wrong. I mustn't think of what they could be doing to her, my Annie, <em>my<em> Annie, right now, because of me. . . I mustn't think of Annie. I mustn't think . . .

. . . Her laughing sea green eyes swim up to fill my vision and for a moment a smile wobbles at the corner of my mouth. Then her jabberjay fabricated scream shatters the inside of my head and something that feels like a fist reaches inside my chest and gives a massive wrench to my heart. Her scream from the Games still leaves me senseless. I moan, clenching my head in my hands, but it's too late. Images rush into my mind, images of my helpless Annie bleeding and broken, her limbs twisted at angles, of her screaming and screaming my name. I'm so afraid for her; my vulnerable, childlike Annie.

Don't hurt my Annie.

No, no. Annie, Annie, Annie, Annie. Oh _Gods. _Not my Annie, don't hurt my Annie. _My Annie_.

All my fault.

It's too much to bear. With a low cry I fling the length of rope away from me. It lands in the far corner of the room and breathing raggedly I choke back the sobs that threaten to drown me. Clenched fists and muscles corded and hard, I try not to scream. I drag up my legs and shaking, rest my elbows on my knees and my forehead on my clasped hands. _Annie_.

I'm lost in gods-awful thoughts when suddenly Katniss speaks, jolting me out of my waking nightmare.

"Did you love Annie right away, Finnick?" For a moment I am so taken aback by the question that I don't answer.

"No." Does this girl have mind-reading powers? Then I realise that she's probably thinking about her two lover-boys – both of whom stand a chance of not returning tonight. I quickly direct my thoughts away from such matters. No. Don't think about it. What has Katniss just asked you? I think of the time that I first realised I loved Annie. In a slightly softer tone I add: "She crept up on me."

Once again a smile tweaks my lips, but this time I allow my memories to rise up and envelop me – memories that are soft and warm and full of light.

Anything to escape this twisted reality.

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><p><strong>Review! Constructive criticism appreciated!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2: Memories

_I'm nineteen. It's my second year of mentoring, and I'm sat on one of the cold metal seats next to my mentor-partner Mags. The stage is the one that has stood in the square of our large fishing-town for decades. I choose to look down at the warped wooden planks instead of at the faces of the poor kids who are waiting, terrified out of their skulls, to be chosen. I don't want to be here. I know, though, that if I didn't do it, the task of mentoring would be left down to Derris, or Gilia or Ter, and with them the new tributes wouldn't stand a chance. Not with them drunk, or too wrapped up in their own sense of self-worth to care. _

_The girl's name is called, but I don't hear her name over the wind. Looking up I see I face that's all large green eyes and sensuous pink lips. She could be a female double of me, handsome and tall as she is, save for the long, dark-brown hair flowing down her back, and her slight curves and skinny frame. _

_A bolt of recognition sears through me as with surge of regret I realise that this girl is Annie Cresta. Annie Cresta, the frail only-daughter of one of the richer fishing families in town. At only 17 years old, Annie is known for being mentally fragile, prone to epileptic fits. She reportedly lives in a dream world most of the time. Her father keeps her sequestered away from the rest of the town kids, and as a result of this, she's even more nervous around people than her illness calls for. Her innocence and naivety is a given, which is unfortunate. _

_A pitying frown creases my brow. Even if she survives the Games, which is doubtful, it's likely that her mental state will be irrevocably damaged._ _The happy little world she's living in is about to be rudely shattered._

_So absorbed in my thoughts am I that I don't even register the male tribute's name, and have to be reminded of it later by Mags._

Ψ

_I'm throwing up in the toilet on the train to the Capitol when we have our first real conversation - one that doesn't revolve around the Capitol and their warped Games, that is. I'm bent double, retching into the toilet that is just off the lounge carriage when I sense her presence. Hastily wiping the snot from my face, and ripping off the expensive toilet paper to cover my mouth and all traces of sick on my chin I whirl around, hoping desperately that my eyes aren't red from all the crying I'd done. Normally I'd be in my compartment before the attacks hit me, but today I'd been too late to get there before the memories and panic overwhelmed and crippled me. I'd thrown up without fail every time on the way to the Capitol after President Snow and the Gamemakers had forced me into prostitution. Most times I could hide it, but it appeared that today I could not. _

_When I'd rushed into the toilet to throw up, I'd stupidly forgotten –or didn't have time- to lock the door behind me, and now she is standing here, holding the door and looking up at me with those solemn green eyes of hers. So surprised am I at seeing her there – I had expected to find a startled-looking waiter or servant staring at me – that I take a step backwards and almost slip in the sick that the floor is slicked with. Awkwardly, I regain my composure and my balance, and stand staring at her, uncertain as to how I should react. Normally I would flash one of my trademark 'Finnick' grins, but somehow I know that this isn't the right tack to take with her. _

"Umm…"_ I mutter, and take a step towards her, intending to push past her and closet myself once again in my compartment. Instead she takes a step forward, so that we're chest to chest, takes the toilet paper that I'm holding at my mouth, and gently wipes my chin. Shocked into immobility I stand unresisting as she clears all the vomited food, snot and tears from my face. Leaning past me, she then flushes the paper away, and returns to standing in front of me. Carefully, she grips my two hands in hers and gives them a gentle squeeze. "_Don't worry_," She whispers, "_It'll be alright_." Then she is gone._

_Shell-shocked, I stand staring at the place a few inches in front of me where just a few seconds ago her face had been._

Ψ

"You can do this Annie,"_ I urge her through clenched teeth. I'm cupping her face in my hands, speaking directly to her face as I try to get her to stand on the chariot next to her fellow tribute, Tiberius. Everyone is waiting for District 4's carriage to come out, but frightened by the noise and the light erupting from the steel doors every time they opened to let another carriage through, Annie has hopped off and is cowering by the spokes of one of the chariot's great wheels, trembling. I've been called to get things underway again, and I have to get her on the carriage _now. _The Capitol audience is getting restless, and I can feel the tension and impatience of the crowd rolling off them in great waves. _

"You can do this, Annie,"_ I say again, feeling pity at the fear showing clearly in her eyes "_Trust me. Trust me, Annie. Nothing will harm you out there – they just want to see you – to see your face, your costume. All they want is a good show_." I let go of her face and hold her hands, giving her a quick once-over as I take in the beautiful costume that she is wearing. She's dressed in a material that resembles seaweed, and it clings to her upper body like a second skin, undulating out in waves around her hips and legs. Shells and pearls are braided into her hair, but aside from that, her chocolate locks are free and flowing. She is barefoot and, for the most part, make-up free._

_I suck in a breath, then whistle through my teeth and grin at her. "_You look beautiful tonight, Annie._" Her expression changes then to one of pleasure, and she smiles at me. I smile back at her, then quickly change my expression to one of seriousness again and hold her head, leaning my forehead against hers and looking deeply into her eyes. "_You need to do this, Annie. You need to do this for me_." I pause and take a breath. "_Can you do this for me_?"_

_Annie reaches up and places her hands on the sides of my head, and I'm suddenly aware of the intimacy of our position and the number of people watching us. I swallow, but before I can do or say anything Annie replies: "_I'll do it for you, Finnick._" Then, startling me, she quickly kisses me on my mouth, untangles herself from my hands and jumps up onto the chariot next to Tiberius. Once again shocking me, she turns to me and says, "_You look beautiful tonight, too, Finnick_." And with a wink so out of character that I flinch, she turns back to face the steel doors and sets her shoulders. I clear my throat nervously, then I chuckle and break into full-blown laughter. Above me on the chariot Annie grins, and something within me feels oddly pleased. _

_With a jolt I realise that most of the stylists and all of the nearby tributes are staring at me, laughing to myself like a lunatic. Suddenly self-conscious – an unusual feeling for the scandalous Finnick Odair - I roar, slightly breathless: "_Well, what are you waiting for? Wheel them out!"_ Pushing through a bunch of gawping stylists, I retreat to the room where an image of the parading tributes is projected against a wall. Mags is already there, and she gazes at me silently with an unintelligible look in her eyes when I come into the room. _

Ψ

_ "_Swim, Annie, swim_!" I mutter feverishly under my breath as I watch the large screen in front of me. Only three tributes left, and Annie one of them. . . If she can just stay alive for a few more hours, I know that the other two tributes – from 2 and 3 – will be too exhausted to stay afloat. "C_ome on, Annie . . . Come on . . ."

Ψ

_They drag her kicking and screaming off the hovercraft, wet straight through. When I reach the side of the struggling paramedics who carry Annie, I stop and stare in shock. _She's so thin. _Her cheeks are hollow, the skin stretched taught over her high cheekbones. Her eyes are sunken and dark, and I can clearly see her protruding ribs through the thin fabric of her shirt. Her legs . . . they're thin to the point of emaciation. There's no flesh on them whatsoever, only skin sagging on bone. I moan when I see her, and she must hear this, because she looks up at me then and despite the madness contorting her face in her eyes I see clear recognition. _

_Her struggling stops a little when she sees me, and encouraged by this, I command the paramedics to give her to me. They begin to protest, but I point out that they hardly want Annie exhausted any more than she already is, and I scoop her up from their arms before they can respond. I set off toward to Annie's designated recovery room._

_In my arms Annie instantly stills and stares up at me with her hollow eyes. I'm frightened by how light she is, and by how quiet. Her breath is coming in short, shallow gasps, her chest trembling with the effort, and worried, I speed up my pace. Her eyelids start to flutter, and my heart jumps in my mouth. "_Stay with me, Annie-bird, sweet girl, come on . . _." I whisper._

_I can't lose her now_.

_Her breathing suddenly stops. An electric shock jolts through the entire length of my body_ _and suddenly, I am running, not thinking, just running. Running . . ._

"OUT OF MY WAY_!" I roar to a startled nurse I'd checked out only moments ago. I know that she can't help - only the skilled medics in the recovery room can now. I push past her and into the atrium of the medical ward. For a second I pause to get my bearings, not even registering the stares of the medical staff on the balconies of all three floors looking down at me._

_Left. My blood pounding in my ears, Annie deathly still in my arms I run at breakneck speed up the stairs. I burst into a partly-deserted corridor, panting. My athleticism is a great bonus at the moment, but even I can't keep this pace up. I force my body on, up another two sets of stairs. I charge down a warren of corridors. Can't . . . stop. . . I keep muttering to Annie under my breath, not even letting myself think about what I will do if it turns out that she's . . . _

_Crashing into the room I know is Annie's, I ignore the startled medics and quickly lay her on the bed. Hands shaking, I stare, helpless, at the array of tubes and needles in front of me. "Shit!" I cry, and whirl round to the medics. Practically screaming, I grab the nearest, a man, and shake him so hard that his head snaps back and forward on his neck _"Help her!"_ I shout. _

_Suddenly the room comes alive as a bunch of white-clothed peacemakers pile into the room. They pull me of the terrified man and grab my arms, and as if breaking out of a trance the medics all jump and quickly rush over to Annie. The peacekeepers are pulling me now, trying to drag me out of the room, but I fight them off almost disinterestedly as my eyes fix on the medic checking Annie's pulse. No . . . Annie. I punch a peacemaker's face. Come on, Annie . . . Annie . . . kick shin, bite arm, another punch. Annie . . . The room seems to freeze for a moment and all I can hear is my laboured breathing and the grunting of the sweating peacekeepers behind me._

_The medic slowly nods and for I moment I think that means that that is it - that she's gone. Panic fills me. The world crashes down around me and suddenly everything is in high speed. With inhuman effort I throw off the peacekeepers clinging to my arms and I barrel my way to the front of the crowd that is gathered around Annie's bed. I stand shaking from the effort of so much physical activity in so short a time, and stare at her. With uncomprehending eyes, I note the shallow rise and fall of her breath, the steady, albeit weak, beep of the monitor that registers her heart. Something within me collapses then, and I deflate. With a trembling hand I reach out to her slight form, eyes wide, and say in a voice that I don't recognise, that's childlike and young and vulnerable "_Annie?"

_A gentle hand touches my arm, softly holding me back from touching her. The man whose neck I had almost snapped looks compassionately into my eyes and says: _"She's alright. She'll be fine."

_Then a needle plunges into my arm, and then there is nothing._

Ψ

_I wake with the distinct sense that someone is in my room. Slowly sitting up so that I am leaning against the headboard of my bed, I rub my eyes and run my hand through my tousled bronze hair. Bleary eyed, I study the form perched on the edge of the bed. "_Annie?"

"Hello, Finnick. I can't sleep."_ She is faced at an angle slightly away from me, and as I look more closely at her face, I see that her eyes are wide; staring at something I cannot see in the middle-distance. Tear tracks shine on her face and her lips are trembling. If I hadn't heard her clearly speak, I would have wondered if she had any trace of sanity left within her. Pity eclipses my heart, and softly I reach out and touch her back. She jumps under my touches, and then relaxes into my hand. _

"What's the matter?"_ I ask gently, rubbing in small circles on her back. Her head turns to face me in a movement that is eerily mechanical, and without warning she starts screaming, her cries shattering and bouncing around the room. Her body begins jerking into grotesque angles, and with a flash of panic I realise that she is having on of her fits, only one much heightened by the terror of the games. Jolting out of any residing weariness I have I lurch up and immediately pull her into my lap, wrapping her in my arms, holding her to me. I press her face into my neck and smooth her hair with my hand, murmuring soft nothings. I don't even care that I'm half naked and that she's in my room when she shouldn't be. All I can do is to try and hush her cries and still her jerking, shaking body._

"Shush, Annie-bird, shush . . ."

_Aeons seem to pass. Nothing seems to matter save for her warm body in my arms and my hushed attempts at comfort. I don't care that I don't know how long I've been sat here for. It's all Annie. . . Eventually the judders coursing through her body subside and her cries diminish to sobs, then whimpers and then nothing. Then it is only silence. Neither of us moves, her face buried in my neck. I slide down the pillows until we are both lying flat on the bed and she is curled up against my side, her face obscured by masses of hair. My arms still around her, my body freezes when I feel her lips move against my bare torso, shooting me through with the sort of pleasure that I thought I could no longer feel._

"We are the same now,"_ she murmurs. Before I have the chance to wonder what she means, she speaks again, gently blunt, and with no inhibitions: _"Why were you crying on the train Finnick?"_ I feel my muscles cord and tighten when I react to her words and the memories they stir up. I pause, not knowing how to answer, but before I can say anything she lifts her head up and rests it on my chest, eyes wide and solemn as they look into mine. Somehow she manages to lace her fingers in mine, and she whispers to me _"Why do we cry, Finnick?"_ I stare at her, at this poor, mad girl who has somehow managed to worm her way into my heart, and on impulse I lean forward and press a kiss to her soft mouth. Startled by my own actions I quickly pull back, but not before I see Annie's pupil expand and dilate, magnifying their liquid depths. _

_Annie looks at me for a moment, then wriggles her way on top of my body and presses her face close to mine. Unprotesting, I watch her silently. Abruptly her face contorts and a flicker of madness shows in her face. Then it clears. She worms herself closer to my face then says, _"You weren't here last night Finnick. I screamed and screamed for you but you didn't come."_ She pauses then looks down at her arms where I notice for the first time the bruises showing there. She looks back at me, her green eyes liquid and wide. _"Why didn't you come? The white-men pulled me away, but I didn't want to go. Where were you, Finnick?"

_I wrap my arms around the still scarily-thin girl on top of me, lifting my head up and propping it more firmly on my pillow. Then I make a decision. I'm going to tell her about what happens to me every time I come to the capitol. I'm going to open up to tell her. _

_So I do. I tell Annie about how I'm sold off every year to the highest bidder –how my body is sold to pleasure the rich and self-gratifying of the capitol. She doesn't speak, but just watches me sombrely through her dark lashes. When I finish I feel strangely calm inside, and she kisses me on my lips. She whispers to me what she told me earlier. _"See, we're the same."_ She rolls off me and stares up at the ceiling. _"Broken."

_The following morning, after we had both drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, I wake up to find her gone._

Ψ

_We're back home. I'm stood on Long Beach and she stands a few feet in front of me. Cold, salt-laced sea wind ruffles our hair and the harsh gull-cries echo discordantly with the old fishing tune Annie is humming quietly to herself. She is barefoot, the wet sand seeping through the cracks in her toes, and dressed only in a high-necked night-gown. Though I can't see her face, I know that her eyes will be far-away and distant._

"Annie."_ I say. She stills, her shoulders tensing as I say her name. The singing stops. I move up behind her, and draw her body close to mine, her back to my chest and my arms around her waist. I hold her close, never wanting to let her go, though I know that if I don't the peacekeepers from the Capitol will report back to President Snow that they have someone to use against me. I don't care anymore, though. No-one can mistake whatever-it-is between me and Annie for something other than it is. I clearly care for her, and she for me. _

"Annie-love," _I say, _"you have to come back inside. Your father's worried for you, sweet-girl, sweet-thing."_ I sigh against her hair and press my lips to her head. She turns round in my arms to face me, her hands gripping my forearms and I move back a little. _

_She tilts her face up to mine and suddenly earnest and sane, she says _"You'll never leave me, will you, Finnick? Promise me, you'll never go."

_I look down at her sober and serious. _"I'll always be here, Annie-bird. Always._" I draw her in close, and whisper in her hair._

"Always"

Ѱ

_There's nothing but sweetness and hot skin and Annie Annie Annie . . . Soft lips on rough skin and rough lips on soft skin and Annie and nothing but Annie . . . _

"Finnick!" _she gasps. _

"I'm here Annie. I'm here. Always here, Annie."

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><p><strong>Please, please review – I need feedback so I know what to improve! Please click the button x<strong>


	3. Chapter 3: Tears and Pain

"They're back. We're wanted in the hospital." Haymitch's rough voice interrupts my thoughts, but I can't move my head, I can't even look at him. My gaze fixes on the floor, waiting for the words that will either be my salvation or utter destruction. But all I get is: "That's all I know."

I don't want to move. I can't move. I'd rather stay locked in this strung-out limbo than go out that door and find my Annie still gone. Or dead.

Beside me Katniss stirs. Her body tenses as if she's trying to stop herself from running to the hospital wing. Fluidly standing up, she drops her piece of rope on the floor and sets her shoulders, barely concealing the small shakes that are rippling their way over her body. I don't have any pity to spare for her, though. I'm too wrapped up in my own trembling fear and misery and nervous, frightened excitement to even care.

Katniss takes a step towards the door which Haymitch has just exited, but she pauses when she realises that I'm not following her. Gently, in an action that reminds me painfully of Annie, she reaches down, takes one of my hands, and pulls me up after her. Mutely, I follow behind her as we exit the room and carve a path to the hospital wing, my hand still in hers. I look at the floor rather than at anyone's face.

When we reach the hospital wing, everything is in chaos. I am overwhelmed by noise and movement. People are shouting at each other, and other people – injured ones - are on gurney's, being whizzed to the rooms where they're to be treated. I look up and frantically scan the faces of the people on the beds, looking for that one face in particular, desperately hoping and not hoping that I'll see her. I look from bed to bed and see no-one I recognise; randomer, randomer, _definite_ weirdo, randomer . . . A young woman on a bed speeds past me and for a second I think it is Annie and my heart leaps into my mouth, but it's not, its Joanna who's the one who's lying there emaciated and broken-looking almost beyond recognition.

A fresh wave of invalids adds to the pandemonium, and in the confusion my hand is wrenched free of Katniss's, but suddenly it doesn't matter anymore because I see something that makes me lose my heart and my mind and my breath.

There in the middle of the hallway, a small bedraggled form wrapped in sheet, screaming and gabbling with terror, the only thing still in a sea of chaos.

Annie. She sees me the same second I see her and in amidst her frightened screaming, a cry of pure, unadulterated joy spills from her lips. "Finnick!" A millisecond of absolute stillness passes, then something bursts inside me, and suddenly I'm flying, and she's flying too. I'm flying, running, whatever, towards her, throwing aside anyone thick enough to be in my way to get to her - anything to bridge this obscene, unnatural gap between us – and everything apart from her face and eyes and her body ceases to matter - is drowned out so there's no sound, no-one else, nothing, only Annie. Then suddenly she's directly there, in front of me, and our momentum crashes us into each other, and I'm enfolding her in my arms and we trip and slam into a wall and everything is beautiful and confused and overwhelmingly, unbelievably, chokingly perfect.

I grip her to me, my heart pounding in my chest, something deep within me roaring her name over and over again. I half sob and gasp at the pure beauty of her being here with me, wrapped in my arms and fitting with my body so perfectly. Pressing her into the wall with the weight of my body, shielding her from anything and everything, I rain kisses down on her head, on her hair and her neck, the top of her head and her eyelids and her mouth and the tip of her nose and her cheekbones and …

"Look at you in your sheet. You'll get cold, sweet girl" I draw in a shuddering breath, barely registering the tears that stream down my face. I kiss her over and over on her lips, whispering through my sobs: "Don't get cold for me." Pulling my neck down so that our faces are as close as they can get, Annie pushes her face into mine, our noses smushing together. She speaks into my lips, her sweet tears running into my mouth and hers. "Ssh, ssh. Finnick, Finnick, Finnick . . ." Her breath is warm on my face and I don't care that I'm crying in front of everybody. Nobody matters anymore, nobody. It's only Annie. Only Annie.

Slowly we slide down the wall until we crumple in a heap, my face buried in my Annie's neck, my fingers wound tightly in her long dark hair. I will never let her go again. This I swear.

This I swear.

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><p><strong>Please please review! Thanks x<strong>

**Marrya.**


	4. Chapter 4: Peace

**This chapter is the one where the song 'Everything'll be alright' really works x**

**Sorry it's short – this will probably be the last one ; )**

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><p>Later that night I'm lying on my chest, chin resting on my interlaced hands as I gaze at Annie sleeping in the bed next to me. Her eyelashes form dark half-moons on the contours of her cheeks, and her shell-pink lips are slightly parted as her chest rises and falls in conjunction with her gentle breathing. "No nightmares tonight, then," I whisper to her quiet form. Lifting one of my hands, I smooth a stray strand of hair off her face with my thumb. That done, I let my fingers trace soft circles on her cheek as, silently, I gaze at her face. Her eyelids flutter a little and her breath hitches at my touch, but aside from that she doesn't stir. Comforted by her presence, and more for my benefit than hers, I whisper to myself "Everything'll be alright."<p>

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><p><strong>hope you like - if you do please review x<strong>


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